The Freakin' Bus Again
by cdiggity
Summary: Heather Mac's on the freakin' bus again. (musical compliant)


Out of anything in the world, Heather (McNamara) just wanted to hear Heather (Chandler) scream, "Get your skinny ass out here, bitch, or I'm making you take the bus!" from her little red sports car, which would be idling on the curb in front of her house. Veronica would wave out the window the second Heather would leave her house. Veronica was always the nicest.. Heather would bitch about how she needed to be quicker, she didn't have all effing day to wait for her. Or, on the contrary, she'd even take the long honk from Kurt leaning on the horn of his barely working pick up truck to signal her to come outside, which he did for the past few days after Heather had died. Kurt's hand would always travel up Heather's thigh as he drove…as she was sandwiched in the cab between him and Ram.

All of her rides to school were dead.

From the comfort of her sunflower colored room, Heather glanced through the curtains to see an empty street. No red sports car, no shitty pickup truck. No waving Veronica, no searching hand.

She thought about calling Veronica. Veronica, whose parents had given her a station wagon for her sixteenth birthday last year, which she had reluctantly driven her and Martha to school in before Heather (Chandler) started picking her up, hated her for the whole cemetery incident. No way. Besides, each day Heather would see Veronica and JD screech into the parking lot on JD's motorcycle, her arms and legs wrapped around his stomach. They'd share a private laugh after he'd scan the quad and whisper something to her, and she take off her helmet (or his, since he wasn't wearing one) and straighten up his wind blown hair just a little bit. There was definitely no calling Veronica.

Heather (Duke) lived closer to the school, and would always insist on walking to and from, to burn extra calories. She did have her car, but she would never think of helping out Heather. She really only cared about herself these days. There was definitely no calling Heather.

Heather buckled on her bright yellow swatch and picked up her little yellow bag and walked quietly down the main stairs of her house, which her mother had magically secured in the divorce.

The former Mrs. McNamara was sipping black coffee and reading a newspaper. Heather cleared her throat and her mother glanced up, smiled a little, and went back to her paper. "Your socks are uneven, dear," was all she said.

Heather fixed them quickly and finished walking over to her mother. "Um, mom?"

"Mmmmmhm," was all she said, without looking up.

"Mom, could you, um…" Heather wrung her hands nervously, but her mother's hand shot out and stopped the fidgeting. "Sorry. Um, mom, could you drive me to school?"

Her mother finally really looked up at her, with a sort of sad smile. This was the most emotion she had seen from her mother this week. "Sweetie, I can't. I've got to leave in five for work. Why don't you… take the bus. It should be here around the time I leave…"

"Oh, mom, not the bus. I hate the bus," Heather whined. She hated being whiny sometimes, but it was all her mother would ever respond to. The noise bothered her. She hadn't ridden the bus since Sophomore year, and she'd always hate it. The rejects would scream sexual comments at her from the back, and the nerd who had always stared at her like he was about devour her. The entire concept of being so closely surrounded by so many people… it made her sick.

Her mother looked her watch and quickly downed the rest of her coffee. "I can at least take you to the bus stop, sweetie, but you'll just have to deal. Maybe a car for your birthday? It's only a few months away. Come on, let's go."

Heather frowned and followed her mother out to the car. They drove the short block over, and she reluctantly stepped out, before giving one pouting look at her mother, who only shook her head.

The only other person waiting was Martha Dumptruck, er, Dunnstock. Martha gave Heather a small smile, unsurprised to see her there. She opened her mouth to say something, but quickly shut it and turned away.

The bus rolled up quickly. She stepped on and tried to ignore the gawking freshman, and the hollering from the back. She slid into the first empty seat she could find. She felt so claustrophobic. So many people around her were clogging her, while the bus stench was filling her nostrils and making her stomach churn.

Her stomach had been hurting since Heather died, but it kept getting worse and worse. Today was the worst. She heard the freshman in front of her talking, and she peaked over the seat just slightly.

One with a big purple bow whispered to the other excitedly. "Mrs. Fleming said she's bring in a TV crew today! So rad!"

Her friend, with the shortest skirt Heather had ever seen (ugh, freshmen) nodded quickly. "Maybe we'll get on TV!". The suddenly stopped talking and saw Heather peaking at them, and immediately shut up.

Heather sank back down, Mrs. Flem and her constant tirading about the loss of personal youth and tragedy of suicide in todays adolescents, would most definitely be using the TV crew to try and grab the next possible tragedy out of the minds of the students. Heather's mind went blank for a moment, she pictured raging waters and tiny boat, a constant since she realized her status in the hierarchy of the Heathers. The picture disintegrated when the roar of a motorcycle came out of nowhere.

She glanced out the window and saw JD and Veronica pulled up next to the bus at the stoplight. Veronica, mid giggle, glanced at the bus beside her and locked eyes with Heather through the window. She gave her a questioning look, before nodding slightly, like she understood. She smiled and mouthed, "tomorrow", before disappearing in a flash the second the light turned green.

Heather's stomach felt a little better.


End file.
